Like Stars, We Blazed
by Sleepyreader13
Summary: "They burned like a star, beautiful and dazzling and tragic. And stars that burn twice as bright only burn for half as long, and Danny Phantom, he had blazed." When it was all over, and they were all grieving and going quietly insane, she knows that they lived like stars, burning hot with a passion like a fire and ending just as quickly.


A/N- I had not planned on posting this. Ever. But I like it. It's something new to me, writing this, so I hope I did alright. Emotion warning like whoa, but I like it.

Thank you goes to IceDragon19 for being an amazing beta and helping me edit this even though there was no promise it would ever see the light of day. She's amazing.

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If it looks familiar, chances are I don't own it.

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She sits back against the hard backed chair, wishing it was the rough bark of the tree they'd sat against oh-so-many times. She runs her fingers over the skin on her arm, (she wishes it was his fingers running over her skin, just one last time), over the pale scar there in a way that reminds her of him (everything reminds her of him), and she remembers the other scars that paint a picture across her skin and tell a story on her body (a story that he was a part of, that he led, that he loved). She looks up at the front of the room, under the lights at the glinting metal, at the silent testament that he was _gonegonegone_ and there is nothing she can do but remember.

And, oh, how she remembers (it's all she does, sits and remembers until she knows it's driving her crazy). She can see it, every _dayhourminutesecond_ and she knows it'll never really go away (she knows crazy would be better than this, better than the memories that _ripshredtear _at her heart). She can still see his eyes, green and blue and beautiful, staring up at her with all that _emotion_ (that passion that she's always loved) that he always had, all the love and happiness that had made her life what is was (_beautifulwonderful__perfect_).

She can still feel that calloused skin against hers, feel his cool-hot lips against hers, feel that feeling that anything that had to do with him always put in her stomach.

And she knows it will never happen again. Never ever again.

(And this is when she wishes she were crazy, because at least then maybe, _maybe, _she would see him, one last time. But she's not crazy, not yet, and it hurts worse than anything in the world.)

She sees his family around her, his sister staring ahead like she is—but not, because how could she understand? She loved him, but she wasn't in love with him. She didn't feel as if someone had taken half of her body from her, the other part of her soul, the missing piece to her heart. His mom is crying, _cryingweepingsobbing_ and all she can think is that she wishes she could, she wishes she could break down like that. Because she can't. She sits and watches and waits, because she's going crazy and she's in so much pain and she can't breathe and she can't even _cry. _She watches Jack's blue eyes turn black with grief, see the tears fall against his cheeks and somehow it makes him look bigger and smaller than what he is—he's always been like his son to her, larger than life and never breaking (but she knows that's a lie now).

Tucker sees it, but he hasn't said anything, not to anyone (or her, but he doesn't have to, they both know everything) and she knows he never will. It's not like him to bring up something like that, not now, probably not ever. He's not one to make this any harder on them than it already is, but she can see how it's breaking him too. And, she can't make herself help him anymore than she can help herself.

(She knows he's breaking like she is, in a different way, because while they weren't lovers, they were brothers. She can see it in his eyes that this is driving him crazy too.)

And she can't, she watches as the tears are shed, as the grief is displayed, as people try (they don't succeed, and she knows they never will) to comfort her. She doesn't cry, doesn't speak, but she's as broken as the rest of them. She wishes she can cry like they can, that she can hurt so openly like they can, but these past years (with him, she'd give anything, _everything,_ to do it again) have made her harder, made her sharper, and she can't cry in front of them, she doesn't know if she can even cry in front of herself.

She only cried in front of one person, and he was gone.

(And really, she's gone with him. He's gone and the people he left behind can't help her any more than she can help them, and she just wants to see him, one last time, and that's driving her mad.)

She supposes that it wasn't really unexpected, not really, and that hurts too. He had put his life on the line day after day after day (she loved him for it, but she hated it too) and it was always a worry, always a concern, but they never _really _expected it to happen until it came from behind and happened, and now it's in their face and driving them insane.

And, well, isn't it ironic (their whole lives were ironic, but that's not the point) that the one man—he's not a man, not really—that claimed to care for Danny (God, even his name hurts), that claimed to understand what he was going through (she knows the only ones that can claim that is her and Tucker, and now that knowledge is driving them crazy), was the one that did this? Isn't it funny that he's the reason their sitting in these hard backed chairs under these rose colored lights going quietly insane?

Because it was him. Maybe he didn't plan for it to be him (he hadn't, she saw that surprised pain/panic race through him before he bolted) but he was the reason. He was the reason why she'd had to hold him while he died, why Tucker had clothes permanently stained with crimson-acid blood, why they were the only ones to see the body, why his parents couldn't even say goodbye to their son.

And maybe that's what was really driving her crazy. The fact that through the whole thing, she hadn't told him goodbye. She told him she loved him (she wishes she could tell him, again and again and again, or at least one more time), she told him she would never, ever forget him (she wouldn't, not when his image is branded to the backs of her eyelids and his name on her lips is what's driving her mad), she told him she wanted his forever (and she did, oh God, how she did), but she never lost enough hope to think to say goodbye. The last thing she told him was "I love you" (she hopes he knows she meant it, hopes that it's enough of a goodbye), but not "Goodbye" and now it's driving her insane.

Days later, after all the speeches and memories, when her black combat boots are sinking into the mud like the casket is sinking into the dirt, she thinks with her mind that is going insane that they had burned like a star, beautiful and dazzling and tragic.

And stars that burn twice as bright only burn for half as long, and Danny Phantom, he had _blazed._

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Feedback, anyone?


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